


How To Feel Alive- A Nuna Fic

by sassypotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Genderfluid, Multi, No Smut, Other, Rape Recovery, Romantic Fluff, Self-Harm, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Transgender, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 13:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3730684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassypotter/pseuds/sassypotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fanfic in which Luna's father rapes her. Two years later, she still hasn't recovered from all the pain and heartbreak her father has seized upon her. She gets accepted into Hogwarts, and is finally happy to get away from her father. She meets Neville, a person with developed secrets she couldn't imagine. As they navigate through Hogwarts together, they end up crossing each others paths on the way to recovery and acceptance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Feel Alive- A Nuna Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody!   
> So this is my first fanfic, and I thought it would make sense to have it be about my first fandom and one of my favorite ships.  
> I'm kinda new to this, so constructive criticism is accepted and wanted.  
> Thank you to everybody who's helped me with this, it wouldn't be real without you. I'll try to post as often as I can, but its still a work in progress.   
> Thanks for reading!

The liquor hit my lips slowly and softly, suffocating with a cocktail of sorrowful firewhiskey. The bottle shimmered in the moonlight, broadcasting a reflection along the beach. My father was gone and would't be home until the early hours of morning, so I played a dangerous game I had embarked on over and over:  _How To Feel Alive._  The sweet concoction drenched her throat, leaving a burning sensation in place. 

I cringe as my head engulfed into a sharp, splitting pain, and I instantly felt great regret. 

My hair, a shimmering blonde as white as a heir's fur, swipes across my face swiftly. The choppy bangs that my father hates had almost grown to completely cover my eyes, something my mother would have praised for the untamed edgy style of a young girl. The strawy rough edges blew up, swooping off my forehead and creating a windy plateau of silky hair.

I raised the bottle once again, but stopped its path before it could reach my lips. I heard a growling coming from somewhere not too far away, a buzzing sensation I would recognize if it was miles away. The roar of my fathers broken down, rusty Cleansweep Eleven. Fear and panic escalated into me at the speed of light. He wasn't supposed to be home yet! This was the earliest he had arrived in months, even years. Panic shook through my spine, paralyzing me into a state of shock and terror. I could see the light of his wand flashing in the drowsy beach sky in the distance, and gaining closer by the second.

I then remembered the liquor bottle laying on the porch, casting a shimmer across the wild grass that hadn't been cut in years. I grabbed it swiftly and started sprinting to the door when my foot dragged along an especially long piece of grass, causing me to stumble and fall.

_Damn it!_ I cursed under my breath, fore the long neck of the bottle had completely broken off and shattered across the porch, inches away from the front door.

An alarm rang through my body, sending me into an anxiety attack.

_Shit. No no no not now!_

This was how I ended up crying and hyperventilating at 1 in the morning in front of my house, covered in shards of glass and sweet, stinging fire whiskey. 

And my father was only seconds away. 

I tried to pick up the glass and hide it in my jacket pockets, but the glass only sliced into my finger, leaving a puddle of blood on the oak brown wood. The red blood erupted from my hand, and I cringed in pain. I decided in a split second to brush the glass into the grass, and clean it up in the morning. Hopefully my father would be to drunk to notice. Speaking of which, I could now see him zooming through the sky and coming close to the ground.

I could tell he was drunk. His urging movements were a dead giveaway. After a year of my mothers death, I learned how to read my father. If he irked around senselessly, it meant he was close to blackout drunk. If he slurred and made odd hand movements, he was drunk, but not so drunk that he would start throwing plates at me. The night it happened, he was so drunk he was doing both. So drunk that the next day he woke up he wouldn't remember what happened for a whole week, and then pretend he didn't do it. 

It had been 3 years since my mother died, and almost 2 years since it happened. I'm still not over it, and I doubt I'll ever be. I'll never forget it, and I'll for sure never forgive him.

I swept the last piece of glass into an overgrown dead bush, and then grabbed the half-empty bottle, deciding to fill it with water when he was asleep so he wouldn't notice it when he sobered up. I hid it under a pile of clothes in my room, threw off my overgarments, wrapped a robe around myself loosely, and jumping into bed. Seconds later, I could hear him opening the door, the knob squeaking and grinding. 

And thats when I noticed the lamp.

_Damn it Luna!!_

I had turned on the crystal lamp shaped as a dragon, the one my mother had made me for my 6th birthday. It was my most prized possession. The scales of the dragon gave off an alternating purple and red color, with a tale lifting into the air. A bright blue lightbulb illuminated from the top of the tail, sending a glow across the room. It was beautiful.

But the sight of its light made my father furious. He would know that I was awake, and his anger would escalate. I prayed that he was too drunk to notice.

He stumbled into the house, knocking over a bright green vase. A loud klunking noise went off as it dropped to the ground and bounced. Lucky it didn't break, he would have found a way to blame me and end up making me clean it. 

His eyes layer upon the dragon, and my heart blasted at the rate of 1000.

He cursed under his breath, whispering, "Damn kid wasting the damn electricity. I'll show that little whore...". His words slurred together, running and dripping off his mouth. He took his broom and swept it across the table, sending the lamp shattering. My heart shattered, and sent me into rage and sorrow. 

His eyes crept along the room, searching until they found my room. He gave off a sly smile and crashed to his room.

It had been 3 years since my mother died, and almost 2 years since it happened. I'm still not over it, and I doubt I'll ever be. I'll never forget it, and I'll for sure never forgive him.

2 years since my father raped me.

 


End file.
